Po-tay-to, po-tah-to

You may have been asking yourself, "What has Dr. Bethie been up to for the last 12 post-less days?" Well, folks, I've been doing a lot of things, but none more important than pondering this new revelation about mashed potatoes.

Mashed potatoes are meant to be bad for you.

Many of you know I exercise and eat just healthy enough to support my dessert habit. I drink diet soda. I buy low-fat sour cream. I even recently started making sweet tea and lemonade with half Splenda. But after months (nay, years) of making quasi-healthy mashed potatoes (less butter than I want, using 1% milk, going scant on the salt), I've changed my mind.

It happened when I made mashed potatoes for a new baby. Well, not for the actual baby but for a dinner to take to his parents. Since these potatoes were destined for someone else's table, I went all out. Lots of butter. Cream. A generous sprinkling of kosher salt. When I did my final taste test before packing them up, I decided that is how mashed potatoes are meant to be.

And that's all there is to say about that.

Was that thunder?

This pre-story factoid is very important: We had a nice thunderstorm a few days ago, so Elle played in the rain for the first time and loved it. (Refer to the picture of her in her adorable boots from my last post.)

Earlier today she was sitting on my lap while I read her a story in the big comfy chair in her room. It was nearly lunchtime, so my stomach growled. She looked up and over her shoulder at me and held her arm out, palm up. "Is it rain?"

No, baby girl. Mama just needs a cookie.

These boots were made for walking

So Target takes all my money. Case in point: I was strolling past the shoes on my way to the shampoo aisle and spied these adorable baby cowboy boots. Now does Elle need boots? It depends on your definition of need. I held off for a few days, but in the end I caved, as you and I both already knew would happen. So there we are, me and Elle, in the shoe section. I pick up the pink boots (with sparkly pink stars on the side) and show them to her.

Me: What do you think?
Elle: [big smile]
Me: But the brown ones would be more practical. I mean, they'd go with more stuff. [hold the brown ones up to her, too]
Elle: No, no. [pushes brown ones back to me]
Me: So you want the pink ones then?
Elle: Ping. [points and gives emphatic head nod]
Me: Alright, kid, you don't have to twist my arm. Pink it is.

And you know what? She wants to wear those things everywhere, with everything.

Brand new pink boots!

"Helping" Nick put on his shoes since she's apparently an expert now.



Playing in the rain, popping bubbles.

Maybe I should go back and get the brown ones, too. Hmm, tempting.

Back from the dark side

I was in WF last week with my mom, sister, and aunt. Ellison had a grand time, mostly because she was the center around which the universe revolved (even more than usual). I had fun because we ate a lot. A lot. The best part? Homemade ice cream, the old-fashioned way. Laurie was a champ and cranked pretty much the whole time with Mom assisting. And Ellison refilled the ice, one tiny cube at a time.

In case you were wondering, I was inside (=air-conditioning) making the hot fudge sauce. Delish!

Laurie and I worked off part of those calories with a way-too-early morning run. Well, I worked off part. Laurie worked off all with her seven mile (eek!) haul. Crazy girl is training for a half marathon. I know... my sister gets up at 5:00 am and runs nearly 20 miles a week. Invasion of the body snatchers?

Elle's favorite part of the weekend was probably the pool. That kid will cling to you like she's drowning when you're out in the middle, but there's nothing she loves more than jumping off the edge into your arms. And yes, that is my 1980s Pound Puppies beach towel on the chair in the background.

Thanks to the letter D for Dairy Queen and Auntie Laurie (who flew to Houston rather than Dallas for the sole purpose of riding an extra 4 hours in the backseat as Elle's entertainment) for making this trip possible.

Re-kindling my addiction

So I'd been doing a good job of not letting myself think about buying a new house, but that's just gone to pot over the last week or so. My Pinterest, which had gone untouched for months, is now overflowing with paint swatches and chevron-striped walls and lamps and on and on. I know I'll get carried away because that's exactly what happened in Nashville. Which resulted in this...

Which after much loss of blood, sweat, and tears (does Nick look like a man who cries?) resulted in this...

And my computer is now getting unhappy about so many photo uploads.

The big decision with which I'm struggling in my head right now is if I want lots of bold colors everywhere again or if I want more sophisticated and neutral (gray is really in right now and I'm loving it) with a few touches of demure color. Nick says I'm getting way ahead of myself, which is right. Which was the point of this exercise in looking back at the old house, to distract me. Which clearly didn't work. So I admit defeat, and I will now head back to Sherwin-Williams.com and debate greige versus twilight gray versus Renwick beige. Come find me if I'm not done in a few hours.